


The Templar and His Mage

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Feels, First Kiss, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen Rutherford never dreamed that his Inquisitor--the quiet, beautiful Raeslinn Lavellan--would think of him as more than her Commander. As they come to know each other better, however, a stronger bond blossoms between them and he is surprised to learn that she is as desperate for him as he is for her.</p><p>Rated Explicit for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Eventual Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Although the focus is mainly on my Inquisitor and Cullen, there is a mention of an OC of mine who is a Companion. Teshrael is my own character and will appear in her own fics, she is no way a canon Bioware character.

                The Inquisitor was an elf.

                Not just any elf, but a _Dalish_ elf—and a beautiful one, at that. Raeslinn Lavellan was the kind of woman bards wove fantastic songs of, who rose above the rest and shattered hearts along the way to their thrones. When Raeslinn entered a room, there was always a slight hiccup in conversation: eyes would turn, voices would whisper, people would step forward to offer their assistance or compliments. Even dressed in the monotone uniform Josephine and Leliana had commissioned for her, she outshone every noblewoman in some ridiculous dress and tightly laced corset. There was a quiet knowledge in her amethyst eyes, an empathy that could only be grown from a lifetime spent caring for her people. She knew tricks their healers did not and could often be found assisting with the wounded, applying a poultice or speaking quietly with Cole about a man who did not have much longer left.

                The Inquisitor was a mage.         

                On the battlefield, she wielded fire and their enemies were scorched by the sheer magnitude of her power. She earned the respect of not only her advisors and companions, but her soldiers, her agents, her Chantry support. Raeslinn could often be found in light-hearted arguments with Vivienne about the usefulness of a Circle or listening to Solas tell a story of an encounter he had once had in the fade. She would fall asleep in the library, her head on Dorian’s shoulder, after spending hours researching some long-forgotten spell. Occasionally, the Inquisitor could be found with the Wildling—Teshrael—telling stories of their times with their respective clans or their coming to magic.

                The Inquisitor was out of his reach.

                He told himself this over and over as he fought the urge to reach out and take her hand, to pull her close and run his fingers through her long, loose platinum hair or to trace the dark blue markings below her eyes. Raeslinn was just before his desk, trifling through sheets of papers and asking him questions: _what do you think of Leliana? of Josephine? of our soldiers?_ She seemed distracted, almost troubled by something, but he opted instead to answer her straightforward and didn’t ask what was on her mind. He thought it improper—their relationship was professional and necessary to the survival of the Inquisition. If Cullen wished to remain a formidable Commander, he would have to squelch this inflation of his.

                Cullen was so deep in his unhappiness that he missed what she said next and only realized she had spoken when he cast a glance at her face and saw one of her pale eyebrows arched, a question in her deep purple eyes.

                “Erm, I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he apologized hurriedly, feeling the heat rise to his face.

                Raeslinn frowned and repeated herself: “I thought we could talk… Alone?” Although her words carried the power he had come to associate with her, there was a small tremble in her voice.

                _Maker’s breath…_

“Alone? I—“ There were a hundred scenarios racing through his head and he looked to her as if seeking answers and saw a strange resolve within her expression. His heartbeat was suddenly thunder, pounding in his ears as realization dawned on him. “I-I mean, of course.”

                A ghost of a smile touched her lips as she nodded and headed for the side door, stepping out on to the battlements. Cullen followed dutifully, his shoulders thrown back and chin held high but his bravado was only a façade. Internally, he felt as though he had turned to liquid. His stomach was knotted uncomfortably and his heart continued to pound as if he were a schoolgirl about to be kissed by the handsome farmer boy from just across the way. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath to steady himself, which helped exponentially to calm his nerves.

                Raeslinn paused and leaned against the wall, turning to face him. The sunlight turned her hair into a halo of ghosted gold and illuminated her high cheekbones, the slight blush that had spread across them. _Was she nervous?_ Cullen faltered at this: he had seen the Inquisitor pause before, of course, but it was only when faced with a monumental decision. He remembered the long silence at Haven before she had told him to save as many as he could, that she would remain behind and hold off their enemy.

                The memory brought with it another, more painful remembrance: the fear and loss he had felt as he led the people of Haven away, certain that he would never again see her. When he had finally managed to gather everyone and they had fled to the mountains, camped out in the snow, Cullen had excused himself and walked a ways out to weep in silence. It was true: he hadn’t known her well, but he had known her enough and her death had taken its toll. When the shout had come from a scout— _the Herald! She’s alive!—_ he had thought himself crazy, until he recognized the blonde figure limping through the snow. He had rushed forward with Cassandra and caught her just as she collapsed. It was in that moment that Cullen had realized he would follow this small, thoughtful woman to the ends of the earth and he had promised himself that he would never again allow her to sacrifice her life unless he stood at her side.

                Raeslinn cleared her throat and their eyes met. He mumbled something about the weather and her eyebrows drew together, so he coughed to begin again: “… There was something you wished to discuss?”

                Nothing could have prepared him for the words that came from her next. Even in his fevered fantasies, the elicit dreams that plagued him at night, he would have never dreamed she would confessing her feelings to him: “Cullen, I care for you, and—“

                He waited with bated breath but she broke off abruptly and her eyes flickered to the ground; Raeslinn sighed in defeat. Sensing that she was struggling with her next words, he reached forward and brushed his fingers against the back of her hand. She jumped and looked to him again. “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

                “You left the Templars, but… do you trust mages?” Her eyes were fiery but afraid, an expression that was new to him. “Could you think of me as anything more?”

                His words tumbled from him: “I could!” Cullen paused, then took a deep breath to continue. As thrilled as he was that it seemed Raeslinn was saying _what he hoped she was saying_ , he had to maintain his composure. “I mean, I do… think of you… and what I might say in this sort of situation.” He broke off and pressed a hand to his temple, turning from her to try and hide his own uncertainty. Cullen took several steps away but her quiet footsteps followed him, her presence a warm glow at his side. He felt her reached out tentatively and place a hand on his arm; he turned to face her again, his mouth in a hard line.

                _Innocence._ It filled Raeslinn’s face and reminded him that as ferocious as she could be, as poised as she could be that she was still very young. Cullen ached to reach out and brush away her own frown, but as unsettled as he was at her youth, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the warring emotion in her eye: hope. “What’s stopping you?”

                He could have laughed at her naivety, but restrained himself. “You’re the Inquisitor,” he stated, almost sadly. When he saw she was still staring, waiting for him to go on, Cullen continued: “We’re at war. And you… I didn’t think it was possible.”

                The confession had charged the air between them and Cullen drew closer to Raeslinn so that they were only a breath apart. All of his fantasies—his shameful dreams, his embarrassing thoughts, his wildest hopes—were all but coming true.

                “And yet, I’m still here.”

                The space between them lessened as Cullen placed a hand on the stone wall beside her and leaned closer. “So you are… it seems too much to ask.” He pressed forward further and Raeslinn’s eyelids lowered, her lips parted slightly. Cullen was dizzy with the scent of her: wildflowers and vanilla, both dainty and pure. He breathed in deeply and closed his own eyes briefly before re-opening them, confirming that this was no dream—this was reality, this was his Inquisitor, and this was truly happening. “But I want to…”

                Cullen leaned closer, so close that their faces were together. Raeslinn’s eyes closed and she tilted her chin forward, her hands coming to rest atop his arms and he closed his own eyes, tilted his face to hers—

                “Commander!”

                The electricity in the air evaporated and internally, Cullen was screaming. He pulled back but kept his hands at Raeslinn’s waist, catching sight of her own disappointment. He heard heavy footsteps approaching and fought to keep himself from throwing Jim over the wall.

                “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report,” Jim continued, his eyes trained on the clipboard in his hands. Cullen cursed under his breath and released Raeslinn, turning to face the unsuspecting man.

                “What?” He barked, irritation causing his eyebrow to twitch.

                Jim looked up from the report, his face a mask of innocence. “Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.” The man held the clipboard out and smiled, satisfied with himself for obeying the Commander’s orders.

                If looks could kill, the Maker was surely ready to strike Jim down in his tracks. Cullen’s eyes bore knives into his own and Jim’s eyes flickered to the sight, catching sight of a flustered Inquisitor. Realization finally dawned on him and he took a step backwards. “Or to your office! Right.” He backed away cautiously, his eyes trained on the Commander as if he suspected Cullen was about to lunge forward and choke the life from him; an idea which, at the moment, seemed incredibly attractive to the ex-Templar.

                As Jim closed the door behind him, Cullen turned back to Raeslinn. Her former resolve was gone, replaced again with uncertainty and now disappointment. “If you need to—“

                She didn’t finish her sentence.

                With one quick motion, Cullen had reached out and wound one hand about the back of her head, twisting his fingers within her silken hair. The other was at her back and pulled her forward, crushed him to his chest. His lips found hers and Cullen kissed her hungrily, his eyes closing as he allowed himself to be lost in the moment. Raeslinn’s mouth was soft and tentative beneath his and he licked her lower lip slowly, tenderly. Her mouth parted slightly and their tongues met, tasting one another. Raeslinn was soft and deliciously feminine, putty in his arms even as she nervously placed her hands on his shoulders, winding her fingers with the feathers there. They kissed slowly, savoring the moment, before Cullen broke the embrace and leaned back, his voice rough and low: “I’m sorry.”

                Raeslinn blinked at him in shock and he flushed, continuing: “That was… um… really nice.” The last two words were barely more than a whisper as it dawned upon him what had really just occurred.

                He had kissed her. _He had kissed the Inquisitor!_ Even with his arms wound around her, Leliana’s angry voice echoed in his head, warning him that he stood to lose everything—his position as Commander, his reputation as a respectable man—should Raeslinn change her mind about this and seek counsel from the others.

                Raeslinn’s gaze met his and he swallowed nervously, preparing himself to hear her refusal, to tell him this was all a mistake. Instead, she smirked. “That was what I wanted.”

                “Oh.” His surprise was evident and Cullen cleared his throat, recovering himself. “Good.”

                She smiled up at him again and with the sun on her face, warming them, Cullen was utterly without words. Slowly, he pulled her close again and their eyes closed together as their lips met. Her hands rose to his face, stroking his cheeks as his fingers dug into her hips, hungry to keep her with him. Raeslinn gasped slightly and Cullen took the invitation to slip his tongue into her mouth, groaning slightly even as he pulled her ever closer, desperate.

 ~~~

                Later that day, Cullen had just finished reading Leliana’s latest report when his door creaked open. The familiar smell of wildflowers and vanilla came to him, announcing Raeslinn’s presence even before he looked up to her, smiling. She returned the warmth, closing the door and striding forward. “There you are,” Cullen purred, the memory of their earlier kiss still burning in his mind. “Is there something on your mind?”

                “I need to borrow you.” Her words were innocent, but her tone was anything but. Cullen’s gut clenched.

                “Give me a moment. Then I’m yours.”

                Raeslinn smiled and slipped out the side door, back to the battlements. Cullen left the room and found Jim, giving him clear instructions that he was _not_ to be disturbed until otherwise announced. Jim, obviously remembering his earlier intrusion, flushed and readily agreed. Satisfied with the promise of privacy, Cullen joined Raeslinn on the battlements, admiring the gentle slope of her nose and swell of her lips from her profile. She turned to face him, her eyes darkening.

                Cullen reached forward and placed a hand on her hip, the other at the back of her neck and drew her near. Raeslinn’s hand came up to the meeting of his neck and shoulder, warming the exposed skin there. They drew together, the kiss more familiar than before but enthralling all the same. For several short moments, they were trapped within their own world: no war, no army, no Inquisition. Their hearts beat together as they drew near, desperate to be as close as possible despite Cullen’s armor.

                He was the first to pull away but smiled at the disappointment in her face, his eyes promising there would be more kisses—perhaps even _more_ than that—to come. The Commander bid the Inquisitor farewall as a guard passed them on patrol, nodding to both, and returned to his study.

                Her eyes followed him, her pulse still racing at his touch.

 


	2. That Day in the Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback chapter, mainly story-building. Hope you enjoy!!  
> Again, Teshrael is my character, she is a Companion of the Inquisitor

                He had never felt more helpless in all of his life.

                Even as Cullen helped pitch tents for the shivering people and barked out orders to his soldiers, he felt a deep sense of failure. Everyone was oddly quiet. Even Sera, who usually leapt at the opportunity to break the silence, was suspiciously devoid of her happy-go-lucky nature. After Cullen was sure the camp was going to finish setting up smoothly, he slipped away and walked out into the snow, heading for the bare trees nearby.

                As he reached the small grove, he sank against one of the trunks and rested his face in his hands.

                _Everything was useless._

All of their efforts, all of their attempts at slowing their enemy had been for naught. Backed into a corner, Roderick had revealed the tunnels beneath the Chantry that might enable their escape. Cullen had been prepared to stand and fight and buy the others time, but Raeslinn had stepped up. With firm resolve, she had ordered him to lead the people to safety and left the building to face the demons outside.

                Now, sitting in easily a foot of snow and surrounded by terrified people, Cullen was ashamed. He had allowed her to make the ultimate sacrifice while he ran—afraid. There was no doubt in his mind that the brave elf, her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth pulled in a firm line as she had rushed to face their enemy, had perished. Even if she had somehow managed to defeat the Archdemon, the avalanche would have killed her.

                The loss pained him immeasurably.

                In the time since Raeslinn had gone from prisoner to Herald, he had been captivated by the energy she held. He had been drawn to the elf initially as a sort of savior, but now he realized it had been much more. Sometime along the way, he had fallen for her.

                And now she was gone.

                Soft, crunching footsteps sounded to his side but Cullen did not stir. He felt a presence drop beside him, the warmth of another’s body pressed to his side. Still, he did not stir. His sorrow kept him still as a statue, as cold and unwavering as the storm that had opened in the sky and unleashed its cold fury upon the refugees.

                A slender, delicate hand placed itself over his own and pried his palm from his eyes. Defeated, Cullen allowed himself to be revealed and raised his eyes to his newfound companion. A mismatched blue-and-green gaze met his, her Vallaslin stark against the cool porcelain of her skin. “Cullen.”

                She was so different from the Herald. Where Raeslinn was a raging fire and a friendly smile, Teshrael was a cold burn and a stern word. Physically speaking, she was inferior to Raeslinn at a few inches shorter, but her ferocity in battle and her wisdom matched the other elf’s. When Raeslinn had first returned to camp with the fiery-headed elf, Cullen had been caught off guard by her beauty—it was something wild and intangible, similar to the magic he felt stirring below her skin whenever he was near. Although Raeslinn was Dalish, there was a poise and grace to her; Teshrael was wild, full of whirlwinds and deep woods.

                Although Cullen was taken with Raeslinn, he had often found himself glancing after another. He had pondered many nights what she would do if he reached out to touch a fiery lock, if he traced the purple tattoos beside her eyes. Now, she was so close—so damnably close—and he broke under the temptation.

                Perhaps it was his desperate loneliness that had grown over many months, leaving him an empty and broken man; perhaps it was the loss of one he had entertained spending a future beside. Whatever the reason, Cullen raised one of his dropped hands to her face, brushing a gloved thumb across one of Teshrael’s high cheekbones.

                She shivered beside him and he doubted it had much to do with the cold.

                “Cullen,” she repeated, her voice softer this time. There was a barrage of emotions behind the thing veil of her stoicism and Cullen longed to know what she was thinking.

                “Teshrael.”

                The name was like a sin on his lips, burning his tongue even as he longed to repeat it. The crippling emptiness, loneliness, and desperation he felt was quickly overwhelming him and Cullen reach forward with his other hand, cupping a small chin between them. All around them, harsh light danced off the snow and the quiet voices of the refugees rode the wind. Although he knew company was a short walk away, he felt as though they were trapped inside their own bubble—their own realty, where there was no loss or war.

                Teshrael’s eyelids fluttered and her lashes kissed her cheeks as they leaned closer. Cullen convinced himself their proximity was to resolve the cold he could now feel seeping through his armor, but petal soft lips found his and he groaned deep in his throat. In the back of his mind, he suspected she was seeking company to fill a void she herself must be faced with; after all, it was no secret Raeslinn and Teshrael had grown close over the months since the wild elf had joined them at Haven. Cullen pushed the thought from his mind and pulled her closer, suddenly desperate to distract himself from the loss that encompassed them both. His fingers tangled in her hair and hers clawed at the back of his neck, both trying to pull the other closer and close the wound on their hearts.

                _“There’s someone coming!”_

                The guards shout broke the heavy silence and Cullen instantly pulled away from Teshrael and was on his feet, his hand at the hilt of his sword. Teshrael followed him immediately and the hum of her magic filled the air. Whatever had just happened between them was pushed aside as they stood ready to dispose of any threat, ready to defend the people Raeslinn had just sacrificed her life for.

                _“The Herald! She's alive!”_

The words shook Cullen to his core and suddenly he was running, fighting against the snow to come around the bend. Just before him, shivering violently and looking very much as though she had fought off a pack of demons and survived an avalanche, Raeslinn was tumbling through the snow. Cullen surged forward, Cassandra and Leliana just at his heels. He reached her just as her knees faltered and dove forward, catching her limp body just before she hit the snow.

                Amethyst eyes met a golden gaze and his heart seized as he surveyed her injuries, mentally calculating her chances of survival out here in the snow. Just as the corners of his mouth were turning down, a trembling hand rested upon his cheek and Raeslinn smiled— _smiled!_ —weakly up at him.             

                “I came back,” she whispered and then her eyes closed, her body sagging against his as she lost consciousness. Cullen stood slowly, cradling her limp figure against him and shouldered Cassandra and Leliana away even as both fought to get a better look at the little blonde elf who had conquered certain death. As he turned to the camp, he caught sight of a solitary figure just beyond the line of a sparse collection of trees. Even as he paused and worked the courage to call to her, Teshrael disappeared into the snow.

                Cullen knew, without confirmation, he would not see her again for many hours.

                Frowning, he started toward the camp, tenderly holding the woman he was growing to love against his chest.


	3. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Raeslinn and Cullen solidify their commitment.
> 
> edit: I had her old name in here before, oops!

                “Rylan’s men will monitor the situation,” Cullen announced to his men, his golden eyes scanning their eager expressions. As he spoke, the door creaked open and a small figure clad in light linens slipped inside. Cullen continued instructing his men on their duties, but he couldn’t help but flush at her presence—so close, yet so terribly far. Several times, he tripped over his words as he met those amethyst eyes, but always regained his composure before too many eyebrows could raise. Finally, he was able to dismiss the crowd before him and followed them to the door, closing and locking it behind the last of them.

                Cullen sighed and leaned forward, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to the wood. It felt as though the weight of the world were upon his shoulders and he was struggling to maintain his composure. After his recent trials and withdrawal concerns… there was no doubt in his mind he should have lost his title, but Raeslinn had had the utmost of faith within him. His gratitude was too grand to put into words.

                “Wishing for a distraction?” Her voice was like quicksilver and Cullen licked his lips in anticipation, then chuckled softly.

                “I’ve had little time to escape them lately, I fear tonight will be no better.”

                “Will it always be this way, then? These brief stolen moments?”

                Her question re-opened his eyes and he turned to look upon her, his expression softening. Sometimes, she could seem so small: so full of hope and wonder and need. Cullen reached out and brushed a silvery strand of hair from her forehead, smiling to himself. “This war won’t last forever.”

                Raeslinn nodded, moving from the wall by the doorway to stand before his desk. Cullen shoved from the door and followed her, reaching out to take her hand. He continued: “When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival but… things are different now.”

                Her eyebrows drew together and she tilted her head to the side, waves of moonlight hair falling over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

                "I find myself wondering what will happen after, when this is over. I don't want to move on... not from you."                 The mood shifted with his words and it was apparent this was no longer a chaste visit between the Inquisitor and her Commander. She lifted a hand to his cheek, stroking a thumb across the stubble that kissed his jawline. Cullen leaned into her touch, his lips parting slightly. His warm breath tickled her wrist, but she continued to caress his cheek. “I just don’t know if you… That is, if you, ah…” He trailed off, frowning and pulled away from her.

                Raeslinn caught his hand and moved before him, backing up against the desk. “Cullen, do you even need to—“ She began, but as she shimmied on to the edge of the desk, her hip hit a bottle teetering there and sent it over the edge. Raeslinn jerked at the sound of breaking glass and gasped at the ink spreading across the floor, looking to Cullen in apology.

                She had expected to see anger or at the very least annoyance, but there was a primal hunger within his eyes. Without a word, Cullen reached forward and swept the rest of his belongings from the desk, then took hold of her hips and pushed her further. Raeslinn readily worked with him, backing up and laying down on the hard wood surface, winding her arms around his neck as he crawled atop the desk. His weight pushed on her as their lips met, one of his own hands reaching up to fist in her hair.

                As they kissed, Raeslinn could not help but notice the growing hardness against her thigh. Although they had been together for what felt like a lifetime now, it was true they had not yet consummated their relationship. She had always been forthcoming with her virginity and Cullen had been patient, but judging by the fire in his lips, his patience was beginning to waiver.

                And hers was as well. She felt the hunger deep within her, quickening her pace, warming the apex of her thighs. Cullen bit down on her lip and seized the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue, even as his hand pulled from her hair to trail the curve of her body. As he came closer to her womanhood, Raeslinn suddenly froze and Cullen stopped as well, pulling back from her.

                His eyes were ashamed, his cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, beloved.”

                Raeslinn gazed up at him and slowly, her fear began to evaporate. Instead, she reached up and brought him down for another kiss, then pressed her lips to the shell of his ear: “I want this.”

                They wasted little time leaving his office, Cullen tugging her by the hand into the castle and up the stairway to her quarters. Although they had met many times for stolen kisses, they had never before been alone together in her room. Raeslinn was both embarrassed and thrilled, her skin prickling with anticipation.

                Tonight, they would become one.

                Cullen walked her to the bed, seating her on the edge and kneeling before her. Slowly, he unlaced and removed her boots, then took a few moments to kiss atop both of her feet and rub the soles free of tension. The touch was new and unexpected and she moaned, earning her a wicked grin. After he had finished his task, he gently pushed her shoulder to the bed and reached forward, slowly unbuttoning her top.

                Raeslinn gently lifted herself from the bed so that he could remove the material, staying upright for him to subsequently pull off her breast band. As the cool air hit her exposed skin. Raeslinn’s hands flutter up and she covered herself, turning away from him as her cheeks reddened. Gently, Cullen turned her around to face him again and pried her hands away, his eyes dropping to her breasts.

                “Maker,” he murmured, the golden irises darkening.

                Raeslinn did not reply, merely gasping as he took the weight of each breast into his hands. Calloused thumbs flicked across her nipples and then he lowered his head, capturing one between his lips. She groaned and arched her back into him, closing her eyes and losing herself in the ecstasy of the moment. Cullen sucked upon one and then the other, teasing her with his tongue and teeth and then trailing kisses down the line of her stomach. As he kissed, he pushed her back on to the bed and his hand went to the lacing of her breeches, undoing them with a single hand and beginning to pull them down.

                Her body was charged with electricity and mutely, she lifted her hips to assist him in removing her pants. Once they were gone, his hand returned to her body, pressing against her crotch. Through her small clothes, he stroked her lips and his thumb found her sweet spot, tracing lazy circles on the outside of the material. Raeslinn groaned and lifted her hips into his touch, twitching in excitement. She felt as though she were leaking, her small clothes embarrassingly damp, but that fact seemed to only further encourage Cullen. Slowly, he pulled at her underwear, leaving her fully exposed before him.

                In a moment of awareness, Raeslinn lifted her head to look at him kneeling between her legs. Cullen smirked at her and then leaned forward, opening his mouth. She went to ask him what he was doing just as he pressed his lips _there_ and she groaned, grasping the blankets.

                Cullen licked along her slit, reaching forward to caress her entrance with a single finger. As he latched his lips on to her clit, he pushed a finger inside, groaning himself at her heat and her tightness. Cullen teased her and pumped his finger in and out, adding a second after her mewls of pleasure began to grow. He could feel the trembling beginning to build and knew it would not be so much longer, so he pulled at the tender bundle of nerves with teeth and tongue and lips until she finally cried out and her body erupted in shivers. As she came, Cullen withdrew his fingers and lowered his head, pressing his tongue into her so that he could taste her orgasm.

                As she began to relax, Raeslinn opened her eyes again and heard the clink of armor. She lifted her head to see Cullen stand and begin to remove his own clothing, slowly. Their eyes met and she felt that she should be embarrassed—after all, she could see the sheen of her juices fresh upon his chin—but she could only feel excitement. First went the armor and the boots, shortly followed by his undershirt. Raeslinn’s eyes raked across his naked torso hungrily, cataloging every scar and hard slope. As she stared, Cullen slowly removed his own trousers and then slipped a thumb into the waist of his own small clothes. Their eyes met again, both dark with lust.

                “Are you sure?” Even now, it was of the utmost importance that she was comfortable.

                Raeslinn nodded and breathed, “Yes.”

                Cullen pulled the last remaining piece of clothing from his body, tossing it aside. Raeslinn gasped at the first sight of his cock, standing erect in a bed of golden curls. As she stared, Cullen moved on to the bed and over her, reminiscent of their earlier position atop his desk. This time, however, she did not reach forward to pull him near but rather relinquished control to him.

                Cullen positioned himself between her thighs and leaned forward, using his forearms to brace himself. Naked body pressed to naked body, his chest hair teasing her. Cullen kissed her briefly and Raeslinn tasted herself upon his lips, which only served to arouse her more.

                Carefully, so that she had time to change her mind, Cullen reached down and positioned the head of his cock against her slick entrance. He felt as if he might explode if he had to wait any longer, but it was important to him that she enjoy this. It would not be his first time, but it would be hers and he intended to make the experience both memorable and pleasant.

                Gold locked with amethyst as Cullen slowly inched forward, the tip of his dick entering her. Raeslinn bit her lip and tears welled in her eyes, which he quickly kissed away. He paused his thrust, allowing her a moment to regain herself, and eventually she lifted a hand to the joining of his shoulders. Taking that as a signal, Cullen pushed forward again, feeling the stretch and almost pop that indicated her loss of maidenhood.

                She cried, fat tears falling down her face at the mix of intense pain and new pleasure. Cullen caressed her cheek and kissed her deeply, pulling out of her slowly before rolling his hips forward again. After a few slow, gently strokes, he felt her relax beneath him and he began to increase his pace, going deeper with every thrust. Soon, his tempo was hurried and they were both panting, looking just past the other as they made love. Cullen’s hips hit hers with fervor, pleasure building within each of them. She was _killing_ him, her body so tight and so wet and so very _ready_ ; she was coming undone at his size, moaning as he hit the right spot with every thrust, digging her nails into his back.

                Cullen came first, groaning and slamming his body into hers as his seed spilled forth. Almost simultaneously, Raeslinn climaxed for the second time, drawing blood as she scratched down his back. In the back of her mind, she realized she had not been taking her herbs, but brushed aside the slim possibility of a pregnancy as ecstasy overwhelmed her. They lay intertwined for several moments, catching their breath, kissing lazily and whispering sweet-nothings.

                When Cullen had finally regained the strength to move, he reluctantly pulled free of her and lay at her side, pulling her back to his chest. He nuzzled her hair and kissed the side of her neck, smiling as she sighed softly.

                “Cullen,” Raeslinn murmured, her voice hazy from sex.

                “Yes, my beloved?”  
                Raeslinn relaxed against him, threading her fingers with his. “I love you,” she said quietly.

                Cullen felt as if his heart might burst from his chest. He kissed her silver hair and pulled her as close as possible, wrapping her in his arms. “I love you, too.”

                And so they lay, the Inquisitor and her cherished Commander, and slipped into sleep together. As the stars twinkled in the sky, Raeslinn and Cullen slumbered intertwined, both of their hearts full and their bodies glowing.


End file.
